Cheerful Holiday Scheming
by Holl-e-wood
Summary: humor ish Christmas fic. title is working title only and may change. Essentially, you have a scheming Albus Dumbledore and one very bah humbug Snape... plus a staff party, exploding mistletoe, tipsy professors, and the mysterious Dumbledore Confection...


It was their giggles that gave it away.

The unfortunate mistletoe was attached to the ceiling above his desk, via—he considered, as he passed by, and decided—a Permanent Sticking Charm. Clever.

No matter.

With a sound like a gunshot, Severus Snape blasted the unfortunate greenery to smithereens.

He turned back to face the class, white-faced all, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike looking terrified; no gigglers were heard now. And yet not one of them had screamed at the noise… interesting.

Severus gave them his best condescending, slightly dangerous sneer. "Merry Christmas," he said softly into the silence; then the bell rang, sample flasks were being plied on top of his desk, and gradually he was left alone with his thoughts, and the dark smear of once-mistletoe above his head.

The Christmas holidays had begun.

Several nights later, alone at his desk (minus the overhanging mistletoe and subsequent blast mark) Severus heard a brisk knock on the dungeon door.

He dropped the tortuously scrawled—they called that an essay?—waste of parchment on the already piled-high desk top and tilted his head back, aching eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, let it out, banishing momentary dark thoughts of an overly-anxious student come crawling back with grade-worries, and then said clearly, "The door is open, Headmaster."

"Why, Severus," said Albus Dumbledore, stepping lightly over the threshold, "You might consider teaching Professor Trelawney a thing or two, with foresight like that."

Not even the Headmaster's gentle teasing or bright and cheerful holiday… _twinkliness_…could save Severus' sense of humor after five hours of essay grading and sample flask testing. "I suppose you've come to tell me to get up and out of the dungeon to find some holiday cheer." Direct and to the point, but not yet outright rude—the first step in their usual battle of wills. It was late, and the unfortunate grading was nearly finished for the night; he could use the rest of the night to check up on his own projects. Perhaps Dumbledore would take the hint this time and leave him bloody well alone…

But Dumbledore's smile was a little too understanding, and there was a glint in his eye Severus knew and distrusted all too well. "Why no, Severus; I merely came to offer you relief from hours of tedious grading. It is Christmas Eve, after all—a joyful occasion, you might recall? And—" Dumbledore continued, one hand raised slightly to forestall the interruption he could see coming a mile off, "as I know your dedication to the school is unsurpassed, I thought perhaps you could use it a bit more productively in the annual staff Christmas party than on the continued grading of first year papers."

The corner of Severus' mouth twitched. He pushed back his chair and rose to pace by his desk in one fluid motion. "There are," he told the floor, careful to avoid Dumbledore's gaze, "limits to dedication. I have no wish to be surrounded by slightly tipsy professors, give or receive pointless gifts, _or_," he paused for a second, finally turning to face the headmaster, "to see a repeat performance of last year's 'Albus Dumbledore Impersonates Santa Clause' production."

The headmaster actually laughed. "My dear Severus that was perilously close to a joke— I do believe a bit of the holiday spirit has gotten into you after all." He peered at the potions master intently over the top of his half-moon spectacles, and Severus felt the familiar, peculiar sensation of vulnerability and childlike helplessness that seemingly all-knowing gaze brought out in him; as though Dumbledore were the omniscient parent who knew, somehow, the ancient and fragile vase hadn't _really _knocked itself off the shelf and shattered into a thousand pieces when no else was around. "Please come, Severus. It's not a real staff party if we're one teacher short."

Severus watched the headmaster's mild, interested, innocently not-hiding-any-ulterior-motives-honest expression for a moment, wondering what his own normally inscrutable face revealed to his unnaturally perceptive friend. Something, he decided, was definitely _up._ But trust the dratted man to make him curious enough about it to actually consider…

Severus eventually caved. "Oh, very well," he snapped, with a good imitation of his usual irritability. "I'll come. But only for a brief appearance, and only after I've finished here."

Dumbledore beamed. "Excellent. Then I shall see you upstairs in the main staff lounge quite promptly. And Severus… if you could bring along one or two ingredients crucial for The Dumbledore Confection, it would be much appreciated."

Unfathomable black eyes flicked from the papers on the desk back to the man before him in a quick, shrewd stare, and caught twinkling blue eyes in a moment of merry mischief that was almost ridiculous in a man Dumbledore's age—Severus was forcibly reminded of someone, although he was so surprised that he could not for the life of him think who.

It was as he watched the last of Dumbledore's flowing blue robes vanish out the dungeon door, which closed with a dull thud, that Severus realized with a sinking feeling his headmaster had once again involved him in something unforgivably close to his least favorite occupation—Cheerful Holiday Scheming.

It was going to be a long night.


End file.
